Chapter Six
Teaspoon slipped out the way he came, not that anyone noticed. Buck’s eyes had grown wide as he moved hesitantly toward the figure in the doorway, and Claire’s burned with such fiery intensity that Teaspoon knew he’d do well to stay out of her path. Buck would have to do some fancy two-stepping to get himself out of this mess, he reflected soberly.
Claire stepped forward, letting the barn door slide shut behind her as she did so. The sudden lack of light set off sparklers in Buck’s line of vision and he shut his eyes, trying to use that time to formulate what he would say to her. What could he say to make it up to her? He’d acted like an inconsiderate lout, running off and leaving her in the middle of nowhere with no explanation and seemingly no remorse. He’d trifled with her emotions and then abandoned her. He no more deserved her forgiveness than Kathleen deserved his. He knew now that regardless of what happened between them at this moment, she could never trust him with her heart. Not when he’d already demonstrated how callously he could betray it.
Buck opened his eyes.
Claire had already moved halfway across the barn, the anger and fury eating away at her. She was so caught up in her own emotions that she didn’t see the pain and anguish on Buck’s face until she was but several steps away. The raw emotion there caused her to hesitate a moment, doubting what she was about to do. She shook her head minutely. Yes, he was hurting. She was hurting too. And they weren’t going to sweep it under the rug like yesterday’s leavings and pretend that it didn’t happen. There was enough of that in the McKinstry family. She was tired of running and tired of pretending that the bad things in her life didn’t happen. They would deal with this, and if the result was the end of her relationship with Buck Cross, well then… then her heart would break in two. But at least the break would be by her own hand, and not that of a stranger from the past.
Resolutely, she crossed the distance between them and held out her hand. “I’m not sure we’ve met,” she said primly. “I’m Claire McKinstry.”
The apology that Buck had hastily drafted faded away. He looked down in confusion at the hand held determinedly in front of him. He searched Claire’s eyes but saw only distance there; the emotions that were usually so close to the surface deliberately shielded from him. That knowledge, that she felt she had to hide what she was feeling from him, hurt more than anything else did. Now he was another forcing her to dim her light. Slowly, he reached out and grasped her hand.
“Claire, I—“
“Oh, you DO know my name.” The sarcasm dripped from her even as she saw the bewilderment and distress on his face. The face of the man she loved. Every compassionate part of her wanted to stop this, stop it now before she hurt him even more than he was already hurting. But the practical part knew that she had to get to the source of the pain if she was ever going to stop it from hurting again. She couldn’t handle it if he pulled away from her a second time. She forced herself to continue.
“I thought you might have mistaken me for Kathleen Devlin.”
Buck flinched as though slapped, his entire body going rigid. His hand in hers felt like an icy dead weight, lax and unmoving. His eyes dropped to the ground but she forced herself to keep staring at his face, willing him to respond and ignoring the tears that were gathering in her own eyes. This was it. He wouldn’t look at her. He did think she was like Kathleen Devlin. Manipulative. Dishonest. Cold and heartless. Claire inwardly damned the woman for ever having crossed paths with this man. This man, who had come in a few short days to exemplify honour in her eyes. She thought she had prepared herself for this – this betrayal – but now that he stood in front of her unable to meet her gaze because of what he considered her to be, she knew she wasn’t prepared at all. Her only thought was that the heaviness in her chest meant that her heart was indeed breaking, and that even though she wanted to hate him for what he thought of her, every fibre of her being still loved him with all she was and all she would ever be.
She started to pull away, looking at the ground and unable to keep the tears from falling any longer, when suddenly his grip tightened on her own. She slowly moved her eyes from their clasped hands to meet his gaze. She expected his eyes to be cold and dark. She expected heated anger. She braced herself for either furious debate or cold dismissal.
What she saw was suffering – sorrow at past and current pain, anguish at hurt done and hurt caused, grief over what could not be. Her anger melted in an instant, replaced by compassion and sympathy.
“I deserved that,” Buck was saying softly. “I can never expect you to forgive me for… for what I thought, for what I just did. Only know that I am calling myself ten times a fool for ruining any chance we could have had.”
Her hand came up to caress his cheek. “Buck—“
He pulled away gently. “I don’t know what you know about… about Kathleen,” he forced himself to say the name. “But I want you to know that you are everything that she could never be. I—“
“Buck.” She stepped closer, again touching his cheek and forcing him to look her in the eye. “I’m not Kathleen Devlin, Buck. I know a little of what she did to you… and maybe later, at some point, when you’re ready, you’ll tell me the rest. For right now, I just need to know that you’re not going to run away from me again. I couldn’t bare that.”
Claire tried to keep her voice was cracking but wasn’t wholly successful. He didn’t think she was like Kathleen – and a part of her wanted to jump up and down in elation at the fact – but the bigger part knew that he could still send away in fear of what may be. And that knowledge was worse than anything she’d faced today.
Buck’s hand came up to wipe away a tear that had escaped her lashes. His voice was husky as he replied. “You don’t know what you’re asking. It’s not—“
“I know exactly what I’m asking! I’m asking you to forget the past! I’m not like that! I wouldn’t hurt you for—“
His finger came up to her lips, stopping the flow of words. Slowly he moved his hand to touch her cheek, feeling the wetness there and hating himself for being the cause of it.
“I know,” he said gently. “I know you wouldn’t. But I would hurt you.” At Claire’s puzzled expression he explained, “I can’t ask you to sacrifice your happiness for me. This town wouldn’t let you forget who you’re seeing. Your father—“
“I’ll see whoever I please!” Claire interjected hotly. She pushed herself away from him, no longer fighting the tears. “Why are you doing this? Why are you making me beg you to lo… to care for me?”
“I’m already hurting you! What do you think that does to me, to know I’m the cause of all of this?”
“You’re not the cause of ANY of it!” Claire railed. “You’re letting your fear push me away. Fear of what others will think, or fear of letting yourself actually feel something for someone!”
“You’ve been in this town a whole two months,” Buck answered sarcastically. “I hardly think you’re in any position to judge what others will think.”
“Oh, that’s right. Everyone in Sweetwater is against you. How silly of me not to see it.” Claire shook her head in frustration.
“Maybe they are,” he muttered, turning his back.
Claire rolled her eyes and pulled him around to face her again. “For gods sake, Buck, drop the self-pity! There are people in this town who love you. The riders—“
“The riders are my family,” he interrupted. “That’s different.”
“And I suppose Jimmy loved you like a brother the first time he met you? And Billy?” His silence gave her the answer she needed. “So why don’t you fight for what you want? Don’t let that fear stop you from doing all you want to do, being the man you want to be!” she continued. “Show them that you’re better than that. Better than them.” She let her voice drop as the implication of what she was saying sank in. “Because you are,” she finished quietly.
When he still didn’t move or speak, she threw up her hands. “My god, Buck, don’t you think I’m afraid too? I’m afraid of my past, and my future… of everything that might be. But I’m not running from it!”
She forced herself to take a deep breath, clenching and unclenching her hands as she fought to regain the control she so easily lost. When she met Buck’s gaze again, her eyes were clear and her mind was focussed. She stepped forward lightly and retook his hand in her own.
“I’m going to embrace it,” she said softly. “I can’t predict the future, I don’t know what will happen… but I’m going to live my life the way I see fit. With the man I choose.” She bit her lip and coloured slightly, suddenly aware of how brazen she sounded.
Buck’s eyes widened as he took in the open and searching gaze of the woman in front of him. The woman who – despite the way he’d treated her, despite his own fears and misgivings – was offering him her heart. She stood again in the light. The question was, could he join her?
“It won’t be easy,” he said uncertainly.
Claire smiled. “I’m more of a fighter than I look.”
“Oh, I’ve discovered that,” Buck teased, matching her smile with a small one of his own. “Are you sure you’re ready for this?”
“Are you?”
Claire held her breath, even now unsure of how he would respond. The conflict was still warring within him, she knew. Fear of being hurt, but now even more, fear of hurting her. The idea both warmed her heart and made her want to cry in anger. She only hoped – prayed – that her way of dealing with the situation had reassured him enough. That he’d be willing to take the chance of loving her. That he’d risk his own heart the way she was risking hers. That he’d take the first small step in laying the past to rest. She gave all she was able. The rest was up to him.
Buck took a step forward until Claire was enveloped in his arms. Lowering his head, he breathed in the scent of her – a heady combination that reminded him of fields of wildflowers, newly grown prairie grass and the first hint of a light summer rain. Slowly, he ran a hand through her long hair, reveling in the feel of the delicate strands against his work-roughened fingers. His other hand worked its way around her waist, pulling her gently yet firmly against him. He sensed her breathing quicken as he softly caressed her cheek, tenderly raising her face to immerse himself in her sparkling sapphire eyes.
“Buck…” The name whispered on the air.
“I’m ready,” he breathed.
Tilting her face toward him, he gently captured her lips with his own. The sensation was nothing like she’d ever experienced, a liquid fire that burned white hot wherever their bodies touched. Instinctively, her hands made their way around his neck, burying themselves in the long flowing hair that she’d longed to touch since the first time she saw him. A small moan escaped her as the kiss deepened, its intensity overwhelming. Her body cried out for him. She wanted to drown in his embrace.
Buck pulled back gently, his own breathing heavy, stroking her hair as both fought to regain control of their passions. After a long moment, Claire lifted her head to gaze ardently into his deep brown eyes.
“I’ve never—“ she began.
“I know,” Buck interrupted smoothly. Her eyes widened as he dipped his head to lightly caress her lips again. “We’ll have to make up for that, won’t we?”
* * * * *
“It’s sure got awful quiet in there,” Lou observed.
The riders stood in a semi-circle, watching the closed barn door intently. Buck and Claire’s – mostly Claire’s – raised voices had been heard clearly in the yard, and finally the riders had given up the pretense of reading and doing chores and had simply watched, and waited.
“Maybe she killed him,” Cody suggested.
“Nah,” Jimmy countered with a smirk. “They’re dancin’.”
“Jimmy!”
“What? Don’t tell me you weren’t thinkin’ it, Lou.”
Lou crossed her arms. “Doesn’t matter what I was thinkin’—“ she began.
“But it does matter what you’re doin’,” Teaspoon finished the sentence, coming up behind the group silently. “Ain’t you got somethin’ better to do than stand around here gossipin’?”
Amidst good-natured grumbles, the riders reluctantly returned to the bunkhouse, already laying bets on the results of Claire and Buck’s encounter. Teaspoon watched their retreat, shaking his head until the final rider had vanished beyond the house. Walking over to Rachel, he casually threw an arm about her waist and regarded the barn door speculatively.
“So,” he said after a long moment. “Think they’re dancin’?”
